


How to Commit Murder in Eight Minutes

by Emcee



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Attempted Murder, Eight Minutes, F/M, Fantasy, Masturbation, Mind Palace, Seduction, Sexual Fantasy, Sherlock's Mind Palace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 18:48:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9136912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emcee/pseuds/Emcee
Summary: Sherlock Holmes likes to plan the murder of his friends and colleagues. He has a particular plan for Molly Hooper.





	

It was rare that Sherlock found himself without cases. His reputation had reached such an apex that there was always someone looking for him to investigate something, even if it was something as simple as a lost pet.

  
But now Sherlock found himself sitting in 221B, his hands steepled under his chin. Scotland Yard hadn't phoned him in days. John and Mary were deep in preparation for their new child. Even Mycroft hadn't tried to bother him.

  
Free time was the bane of Sherlock's existence. The mind grew dull and his body itched for excitement.

  
The only thing he could do was slip into his Mind Palace. He could always find things to keep himself distracted.

  
He began to think about his Murder Scenarios. Planning out the demise of his friends and colleagues was useful while on cases, when he had victims with similar traits to them.

  
His mind turned to the idea of Molly. He did not plan Molly's murder often. But Molly fit into a very specific demographic, one with an unfortunately high victimization rate: Attractive single women in their thirties.

  
He would want it done quickly. It was best to put Molly out of her misery fast. He didn't want her to cry. Ten minutes. No, eight. Eight minutes would be more than sufficient.

  
With their take-and-take relationship, on his part, Molly wouldn't know how to react to anything Sherlock gave her. That discounted any sort of poisons.

  
As difficult as it would be looking her in the eye, something intimate would make the most sense with Molly. She had such tender feelings for him. If he were to exploit that he could get close to her.

  
_He could come to her flat late at night. So late no one else in her building would be awake. Molly would let him in. She always let him in. She'd think he was there because he needed a bolt hole. When she opened her mouth to speak, he would place a finger on her lips. He would feel the wetness of her mouth beneath the digit._

  
_She would freeze, be uncertain what to do. But in that moment, Sherlock would have her. She would allow him to do whatever he wanted with her. She would enjoy every single minute of it. He could wrap his large hands around her slender neck and snap it quickly, in a moment it would be done._

  
_But no, Sherlock would pull Molly to him. He would feel her tiny tits against his chest, heaving with anticipation. Her hands would flutter at his side, unsure if she should grab him. Sherlock would wish she would dig her slim fingers into his hair. He loved to have it tugged._

  
Sherlock groaned, leaning back in his chair. He let his hands slide down his throat and chest. One of them gripped the armrest of his chair while the other kept descending further, rubbing the growing bulge in his trousers.

  
_Molly would keen as Sherlock nibbled and licked her neck. Her pulse would thrum as he groped his hand over one of her small breasts, tweaking the nipple through brassiere and blouse. She would make such lovely noises: Cooing and moaning as he expertly manipulated her. She would be putty in his hands. He could do anything to her. He just needed to strike._

  
Sherlock opened his trousers and released her turgid erection. He teased the head before stroking over his length. His eyes were squeezed shut as he kept himself locked inside his Mind Palace, lost in the sights and sounds and sensations of Molly. Everything Molly.

  
_He would have her on the floor within two minutes. Her clothes would be divested of in thirty seconds. By the start of the third minute he would be between her thighs, feasting on her warm, wet sex. Finally she would allow herself to bury her hands in his curls, begging him not to stop. She was on the ground. He could easily smother her. Still, he continued onward._

  
Sherlock's hips bucked as he let out a grunt. His tongue darted out, licking over his Cupid's bow. He could taste Molly on his lips. Her scent was in his nose. His cock twitched in his hand, eager for them to progress.

  
_He would loom over her, large and intimidating. She would look up at him, brown doe eyes wide. She would tremble from the pleasure he'd given her. She would be so malleable, ripe for whatever Sherlock planned. His cock would press against her, eager for entrance. She would give it without hesitation, crying out his name as he thrust forward, filling her._

  
Sherlock worked himself in earnest, gripping himself tightly, the feel of his hand a pale imitation of what was in his mind's eye. He was so close. He just needed a small push.

  
_He would surge deep into her, Molly's legs and arms wrapping around him, begging him to keep going. Her voice would be hoarse from crying out to him. His name, spoke with such passionate reverence, over and over again. As she drew closer and closer, her limbs would grip him tighter still. "I love you!" She'd shout out as she reached her pinnacle._

  
Sherlock let out a long moan as his climax spilled over his fingers. He sank deeply into his chair, his limbs heavy, body lethargic. He already regretted the mess drying to his fingers and trousers.

  
There was a reason he so rarely planned Molly's murder. He never actually got to the murder part.


End file.
